Oh, damn. The boys would want to celebrate that. That was the custom after all. “It was a special situation,” he began, but the man’s grin had widened.
“Then it’s up to us to see you get a proper party.”
“There isn’t any need.”
“Aw, no trouble. No trouble at all.”
He looked to Iseabail, but she clearly didn’t understand what was going on. And it would only help his case if there were a rowdy bunch of men to testify that she was well and truly bedded. This was all part and parcel of getting married.
“She’s not even got a maid with her,” he said in an undertone. “Have your fun downstairs. I’ll pay for the drink.” He winced at the cost to his purse, not to mention the delay in leaving tomorrow. “But don’t—”
“I’ll see that it stays proper,” Jonathan said. Then with a formal bow to Iseabail, he took his leave.
He should go after the man. He should make things clear about what was and was not acceptable, but as soon as he turned to Iseabail, the innkeeper scratched at the door.
“Begging yer pardon, sir, but I’ve got ink and quill fer you. There’s a desk there with paper. And when it’s done, I’ll be able to set it in the mail for you.”
“Very good,” Iseabail said as she waved for the writing desk to be set in the corner of the room. “Put it all there. It won’t take me more than a few minutes.”
Reuben hesitated, torn between staying by her side and speaking with his men. Normally, he would never worry about a woman when there was men’s work to be done. But he had never been married before, and this was his wife.
“Iseabail—”
She waved him away. “Don’t worry. I remember everything.”
He had no doubt. Well, not a lot of doubt. “I’ll read it over before we send it.”
“Of course.” She smiled sweetly at him. “See to your men.”
She was right. She had her task, and he had his. He could not live the rest of his life forever hovering over her. “Are you sure?” The question wasn’t for her but for himself. He did not want to leave her.
“I’m sure.” She smiled. “I will await you in the bedroom.”
His body tightened at the mere mention of it. And perhaps hers did, too? It was so hard to tell. Were her cheeks rosy from drink or desire? Did she ache for him until she was flushed and bothered? Or was it merely hot near the fire?
He couldn’t tell and he didn’t have the time to figure it out. The faster he saw to his men, the quicker he could return to her. And so he gave her a formal bow and left.
Two hours later, he at last climbed the steps to their bedroom. The innkeeper’s daughter had told him a half hour before milady awaited him. His men had roared their approval and toasted him—several more times—before he could leave them to their revelry. And now he was rosy with drink and desperate to see his woman.
If nothing else, tonight would see his wife well and truly bedded.
Or so he thought until he pushed open the door and found the chamber warm, scented with perfume, and completely empty.
Chapter Nineteen
Iseabail set herbare feet in the stream and shivered at the chill bite to her toes. The water splashed up around her ankles, burbled against the rocks, and did nothing to soothe away the anxiety knotting her stomach.
She tried to do as her mother had taught her. She listened for the hoot of an owl or the scurry of mice in the underbrush. She focused on the wind against her cheeks and the squish of mud between her toes. All these things were of nature, and they were the basis of witchcraft. At least it was the basis of her mother’s witchcraft. A woman connected to these things—air, water, soil, and fire. She had no flint to make a flame, but she tried to touch the spark of life in all the living creatures around her. And if not them, then she felt her own lifeforce. The beat of her heart, the heat of her breath, and the memory of a bonfire at Hogmanay.
From these things, her mother would cast spells that bless the land or aid in an easy birth. She would try to heal the sick or ease the passing of those who could not be saved. And if she failed in all of that, at least her whispers brought hope and peace to many who had nothing else to believe.
Or so she had told Iseabail, and so her daughter had believed. Until tonight.
Tonight, when the connection to earth and all the life within meant absolutely nothing to her. When no matter how she tried, she could not quiet her heart or still her thoughts. The wine had helped dull the panic inside her for a bit, but as the alcohol wore off, her fears returned a thousand-fold. So she had escaped out into the night to find peace. And though she had felt gifted to find this corner of babbling brook, she found no solace here.
So she soaked her feet and waited, pretending that an answer would eventually come to her. Unfortunately, her heart did not believe it.
She heard him coming long before he found her. No one else had that light step that was both heavy enough to be a man and yet quick enough to be a clever woman. No doubt he had seen the window open and the sturdy tree knocking on the panes, just as she had. And so he had followed her before she was ready for him to find her.
